


Avatar

by Jen425



Series: Enter the Game [1]
Category: Kamen Rider - All Media Types, Kamen Rider Ex-Aid, Tokusatsu
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Parado is here but he’s like… not Parado yet, Pre-Canon, Second person POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22670761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jen425/pseuds/Jen425
Summary: “Why didn’t the game reset?”
Relationships: Hinata Kyoutarou & Houjou Emu
Series: Enter the Game [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1766104
Comments: 10
Kudos: 36





	Avatar

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so for those who don’t know, it was canonized in the Ex-Aid novel that Emu’s car accident was a suicide attempt because he was lonely due to moving a lot and also neglected, and from that we know why “you’re smile is proof of your health” became so important to Emu because Kyoutarou saved Emu’s life twice over by not only saving his life in the surgery room but for being, you know, slightly nice to him. Emu saw life as a game, and desperately wanted a “reset”, but almost dying made him value his life.
> 
> And because I relate to being a smol suicidal child who doesn’t fully comprehend death, I wrote a fic where he got a whole Nice Thing.
> 
> Anyways, please enjoy!

When Hojo Emu wakes up and his first question is “why didn’t the game reset?”, you suddenly realize something very terrible about a child who’d collided with a car.

_ Why didn’t the game reset? _

And you’re a doctor, you don’t know much about games, but you know that if you die you get to try again from the beginning. The boy is so confused and small, only eight years old. But there’s something about him, some aura that means you can’t look away, even when he won’t meet your eyes as you explain that he’s still alive.

“Dying is scary,” he says, arms wrapped around his hospital robe garbed little chest, and your heart breaks even more, so you sit down beside him and put an arm on his shoulder.

“It is,” you say. “But that’s why there are doctors here, to protect your life.”

“You… you saved me?”

The boy looks confused, cocking his head. You nod.

“Like my dad?” He asks. “He’s a Doctor.” Then he looks around, smile hopeful in that way that promises very little belief. “Is… is he here?”

Unless you’d missed it, dad had visited once, to fill out paperwork, in the three days Emu has been under the care of the hospital for. No, he isn’t, and you say as much and watch him deflate.

_ Why didn’t the game reset? _

You don’t have to guess that it’s a part of the problem. You simply watch his face drop and decide that that won’t do.

(Child patients always hurt you to be assigned to, especially when they’re as injured as the boy had been. One as obviously  _ still _ hurt as Hojo Emu just exaggerates a familiar emotion.)

“So you like games?” He asks, and Emu nods, excitedly, though there’s something odd about the smile this time, though.

“I’m really good,” he says. “And I love playing them! Even if I usually play alone, I don’t mind. There’s this new game, called…”

He goes on into his explanation, and you listen to him for a bit more as best you can (again, you know very little about video games), but you do have other patients.

(You make sure to instruct the rest of the staff to keep a close eye on him, just in case.)

But, on your break, you remember him mention a hand-held game and its console, and you go out and buy it because you have a feeling the boy needs someone to show that they care.

When you check in on him late in the day, however, he’s asleep. It’s not surprising, really. He’s alive, not unhurt.

(You remember he was rushed in in a bright yellow shirt covered in deep red blood, and you think it might be an apt description of the boy, from what you know so far.)

But you remember to have it on you the next morning, as the boy is woken up by your body blocking the sunlight.

“W-what?” He asks, as you hold up the console. You smile at him.

“This,” you say, “is for being so brave.”

“What?” Emu asks.

“You’re alive,” you say. “That’s very brave, especially when life is hard, but you’re here.”

Emu blinks.

“Oh,” he says. And then his eyes widen, as though suddenly coming to a realization. It makes his next words all the more painful. “But… I don’t want to die?”

How can you even respond to this, when you’ve so quickly put pieces together?

“Take it,” you say, 

The boy does so, obviously still so tired and so painfully confused, and you force yourself to smile. Has no one ever shown him any goddamn kindness before?

(A boy with a small, bright smile and clothes to match raises fewer eyebrows than you might expect, however.)

“As a doctor, it’s my job to keep you healthy,” you say, but really it’s at least thirty percent an excuse. “It’s yours, if you want something to do.”

He blinks, slowly.

“Thank… thank you, Doctor Hinata,” he says. He turns it over in his hands, and he smiles, and you feel your own turn real in response to the hesitant yet bright little smile.

_ Why didn’t the game reset? _

Kneeling down next to him, you make sure to look in his eyes.

“Remember,” you say. “Your smile is proof of your health.”

(He’ll take those words to heart more than you’ll ever know.)

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr @flaim-ita or my Toku-specific side blog, @dancingqueen-mai


End file.
